


Not Just My Imagination

by kelios



Series: In the beginning [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Supernatural - Freeform, Underage - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform, just my imagination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5457545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelios/pseuds/kelios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't want to leave Sam behind; Sam doesn't want to be left behind. They've just started exploring something new between them, and neither of them wants to be without the other. </p><p>Warning: Takes place during the flashback of Just My Imagination so Sam is 9 and Dean is 14.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Just My Imagination

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the flashback we see in Just My Imagination, so Sam is 9 and Dean is 14. 
> 
> This fic was originally posted a few days ago, but I had to remove it briefly. This is a repost. 
> 
> I understand that wincest and weecest are not for everyone. If this is not the kind of fic you enjoy, please don't read. If you choose to do so anyway, please be aware that hateful or shaming comments will be deleted without response.
> 
> There's a pretty big time jump between this fic and the next two in the series. This isn't meant to be chronological, just a way to organize fics about this particular version of Sam and Dean. I'll try to specify when new fics are set in terms of season and ep if possible.

Dean’s waiting for him when the bus finally arrives, two days later. Just to be safe, he hadn’t left the bus the whole time, relying on the snacks and water he’d brought with him instead. Now he’s hungry and thirsty and exhausted, but none of that matters when Dean smiles down at him.

“Hey, kiddo, you made it.”

Sam throws his arms around Dean, tears in his eyes already because he’s missed him more than he ever knew he could. “Missed you, De,” he whispers into Dean’s chest, and feels his brother sigh and relax as he whispers “Missed you, too, Sammy.”

Sam clings tighter, reluctant to let go, til Dean finally pushes him back to smile down at him.

“Let’s get you something to eat, Sammy,” he says, “you gotta be starving.” Sam nods and Dean grabs his bag and tosses it in the backseat of the Impala. Dean’s not supposed to drive yet, but John got him a license that says he’s sixteen and Dean can’t wait to get behind the wheel every chance John gives him.

“Where’s Dad?” Sam asks as they pull away. Dean nods unconsciously in approval.

“He’s two towns over with Pastor Jim,” Dean tells him. “You and me, we’re staying here to do research--and that’s important, so no complaining.” He pauses, eyes slanting over to Sam as his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “We gotta be careful, okay? The lady at the motel thinks Dad is still around, if she finds out we’re on our own we’ll all be in trouble.”

“I can stay quiet,” Sam promises immediately. A McDonalds sign flashes by and Dean raises an eyebrow.

 

“You want a milkshake, Sammy?” It’s almost but not quite a leer, and it takes a minute for Sam to catch on, pink little mouth falling open as he flushes down past his collar. Dean flushes too, like maybe he went too far, but he shivers when Sam whispers _yes_ like a dirty little secret they’ve hauled out into the open.

Dean pulls through the drive through and orders Sammy two happy meals and a milkshake. Sam blushes again when he wraps his lips around the straw, eyes locked on Dean’s in the mirror as he sucks hard. Dean’s teeth sink into his lower lip and Sam get that tight, hot feeling in his stomach that he gets sometimes when they’re alone and Dean is looking just at him. Sam licks a drop of milkshake off his lip and Dean almost runs into the car in front of them because he can’t look away.

It only takes a few minutes to get to where they’re staying. Dean pulls around back, out of sight of the front office, and grabs Sam’s dufflebag out of the back seat. “Home sweet home,” he announces, turning the key on room 108. It’s not the worst room Sam’s ever stayed in—it looks halfway clean, no empty beer bottles or burned out cigarettes. There’s a tiny kitchen off to one side, and a kingsized bed in the middle of the room.

“It’s…nice,” Sam says in surprise. He darts another look at the bed and then up at Dean, who’s watching him with that _look_ again--the one that's just for Sam, like he's the only person in the world. Sam licks his lips, thinks Dean might kiss him now that they’re inside and no one can see them, but Dean just ruffles his hair and smiles. 

“Why don’t you go clean up, kiddo,” Dean says, pleased look on his face. “I gotta call Dad and let him know you got here in one piece. We can watch a movie when you get out.” He ruffles Sam’s hair again as he pulls out his phone and Sam feels lost for a moment, wondering if maybe he’d misunderstood what Dean wanted. What he’d hoped Dean wanted. He feels very young all of a sudden as Dean starts talking low into the phone in his Dad Voice. Dean makes a shooing motion with his hand, and Sam crosses slowly to the bathroom, leaving it open to the comforting rumble of his brother’s voice.

The shower is nice. There’s no mildew in the corners and the towels are less threadbare than he’s used to. Sam wonders for a moment why Dad chose this motel when there had to be cheaper ones out there, but the thought gets lost in the blissful warmth of his first shower in two days. 

He lets the water run over him as he thinks about Dean and what they’d done before. The way it felt when Dean touched him, when he touched Dean. When they kissed, all over. The idea makes him shiver, excitement and anticipation welling up inside him and making his cock--that’s what Dean calls it--get stiff and long. He washes himself slowly, trying not to get his hopes up but he can’t help it. The soap feels good on his skin, slippery soft, and he hesitates when he reaches the sensitive skin between his thighs. He’s never done this before except with Dean, once, but the memory of it still makes his stomach clench in nervous anticipation as he runs barely there fingers over his cock. He sucks in a breath, biting back a moan at the shock of pleasure even his gentle touch sends through him.

“Starting without me, Sammy?”

*****************************************************************

Dean closes his phone and tosses it on the dresser, his father already forgotten. He can hear the shower running through the open door, and it sets off a cascade of thoughts and feelings he knows he shouldn’t have, even as he’s hardening in his jeans anyway. He pulls his shirt over his head as he drifts slowly toward the doorway, kicking off his boots when he gets there. He feels like he’s caught in a fever dream, hot and aching, mind spinning and spinning but always coming back to the same fixed point: Sammy. His beautiful, perfect little brother. Bubblegum lips, wide green eyes, soft smooth hands that have never held a knife, that never smell of gunpowder or blood. Innocent, in a way Dean can’t remember ever being, and that Dean wishes Sam could keep forever. It's too late for that now, Dean knows, but he thinks--hopes--that maybe he can make that loss a little easier to bear for both of them.

Dean watches Sam through the doorway, eyes tracking every movement as Sam rubs soap all over his soft little body. Dean’s breath catches in his throat when Sam reaches between his legs, soft moan exploding out of him as he goes for it and strokes himself tentatively. The sound breaks Dean from his spell and he steps into the steamy bathroom, barely recognizing his own voice as he asks “Starting without me, Sammy?”

Sam jerks in surprise, pulling his hand away guiltily. “I’m sorry, De,” he says, voice trembling. Dean sounds…different, voice rough and low. When Sam looks up, he sees that Dean doesn’t have his shirt on. Sam likes the way Dean’s skin looks, so pale except for his freckles, so different from Sam. He’s bigger than Sam too, with lots of muscles. Sam thinks about touching all that skin, maybe kissing Dean’s freckles and muscles and it makes Sam’s cock twitch and his tummy flutter like the first day of a new school.

“It’s alright, little brother.” Dean steps closer to the tub, reaches past the tattered curtain to push Sam’s hair back off his face. “But how about you come out here where I can see you better?”

Sam drops the soap back on the holder and steps out of the warm water immediately. Dean already has a towel held out but he doesn’t give it to Sam. He goes to his knees instead and wraps him up in soft fluffy cloth, pulling Sam close, touching his nose to Sam’s with a smile. Sam giggles at his silliness, then goes still as Dean presses his lips to Sam’s. Sam makes an eager sound, opening his mouth willingly like Dean showed him before, throwing his arms around Dean’s neck to hold him close. He likes that Dean’s skin feels soft and smooth, even though Sam thinks he ought to be able to feel the freckles spotting Dean’s shoulders. 

Dean’s licks across Sam’s lips and Sam opens his mouth to let him in. His tongue slips into Sam’s mouth and it ought to feel gross or weird but it doesn’t, it feels amazing as Dean touches every part of Sam’s mouth he can reach. He even licks Sam’s teeth, which Sam might think was funny except that warm, fluttery feeling is back in his tummy, and his cock is so hard it almost hurts even though it also feels really, really good. He wants to see if Dean’s cock is hard too, if Dean will let him touch it and maybe put it in his mouth again, so he pulls his head back a little to see.

Dean lets him move but he doesn’t let him go. “What’s wrong, Sammy?” he asks, and this time his voice is softer. Sam shakes his head, arms still around Dean’s neck.

“Nuthin,” he whispers, blushing a little and ducking his head. “I want to do what we did before. Can we, Dean?” Sam looks up at Dean, eyes wide and pleading. “Please?”

Dean makes a pained sound in the back of his throat like Sam hurt him, but Sam knows he didn’t, he’s barely touching him. Dean lets the towel around Sam drop and wraps his arms around Sam instead. “C’mere, little brother,” he says, and his voice sounds low and rough again, makes Sam shiver inside. He pulls Sam close, so that Sam’s legs are spread wide over Dean’s lap and Sam wraps his little legs around Dean’s waist and clings. The feel of so much bare skin against his makes Sam almost dizzy with wanting to touch and kiss and feel. He can feel Dean’s cock hard underneath him through his jeans, can feel the ridge of it rubbing hot between where his cheeks are spread over Dean’s lap and he’s close to begging for Dean to let him see. But Dean’s hands are all over him, Dean’s lips are dragging hot and damp over his neck and shoulder and it’s hard for Sam to think about anything except how good it all feels. 

“Sammy.” Dean’s voice is soft and ragged, like he can’t catch his breath. Sam understands, his chest is tight like he’s been running drills, and everywhere Dean touches him burns hot, swirls of warmth that feel like they’re connected directly to his cock, making it tingle and throb. Dean tangles one hand in Sam’s hair and pulls his head back gently from where Sam has his face buried in the warm dark spot between Dean’s neck and shoulder. 

“Sammy,” Dean says again, longing, and Sam can tell Dean wants something but Sam doesn’t know what. So he kisses him, just like Dean had kissed him earlier. Dean makes a low, eager sound in his throat and opens his mouth for Sam, lets kiss him, lick and touch and explore for a long moment before he pulls away gently. 

Sam protests wordlessly. He wants to keep kissing Dean, but Dean guides Sam’s mouth to his neck instead. Dean moans when Sam licks tentatively over the warm skin there and Sam can’t wait to make Dean feel good like Dean did for him. He wants to see if he can feel Dean’s freckles when he kisses them, even if he can’t feel them with his fingers. Dean’s pulse pounds under his lips when Sam kisses, fast and faster like the rabbit in Sam’s classroom at school last year. Dean’s arms clench around him, pulling him closer, and Dean slides one hand down Sam’s back to cup his bottom. Sam arches against him when Dean’s fingers touch between his legs and even between his butt cheeks--he didn’t know it could feel good to be touched there, but everywhere Dean touches him feels so good he can’t think of anything else. Dean nuzzles against Sam’s neck, breathes into his ear. “Feel so good, Sammy, you’re being so good for me. Can’t wait to make you feel good too.”

“Already feel good, De,” Sam whispers against his neck. “I want you to touch me all over.” Dean’s fingers are still rubbing between his legs, stroking over the soft skin behind his balls and over his butt hole, pushing like maybe he wants to go inside. It’s so good he feels almost giddy, like he’s drunk the way Dad and Uncle Bobby get sometimes, like he couldn’t walk even if he wanted to. He clings to Dean, mouth hot and wet on his neck as he gasps Dean’s name and rubs his cock all over Dean’s tummy. Dean holds him close, kissing his neck and shoulders and whispering encouragement against his skin. 

Finally Dean stands up, carefully holding Sam tight to his body. Sam grips Dean’s tight, legs locked around his waist and he moans again at the sudden pressure on his cock. “I want to take you to the bed, Sammy,” Dean says, mouth brushing hot and damp over Sam’s ear. “That okay?”

Sam nods almost desperately. “De, please,” he whispers, “I want—“

“I know, Sammy, I know. I want, too,” Dean whispers back. “I promise.” 

It’s just a couple of steps to the bed, and Dean lays him down gently. Sam drags Dean down with him, slightly breathless with Dean’s weight on top of him but he doesn’t care. Dean rolls his hips down against Sam the way Sam had rocked against him in the bathroom, watching Sam’s face as he does. Sam’s eyes flutter closed as he whimpers, rough denim and pressure against his naked skin almost too much. A familiar warmth is building up in him, racing through him, a feeling he remembers from before. He pushes against Dean’s shoulder, wanting to see him, all of him, before it’s over.

Dean sits up immediately, moving off Sam and off the bed. “Sam?” he says anxiously. “What—“

Sam sits up, crawling to the edge of the bed so that he can tug on Dean’s belt. “I just want to see you,” he whispers, blushing. “Without your clothes, I mean.” He looks up at Dean, smiling hopefully as he leans forward to kiss the bare skin over Dean’s hip, letting his tongue drag over the sharp cut the way Dean had kissed Sam’s throat. “Is that okay? Can I?” 

Dean shivers, breath coming hard and fast. Sam can see how big Dean’s cock has gotten now that he’s close, and he rubs his cheek against it like a cat. It’s hot against Sam’s cheek, even through the cloth, and Sam can feel a little dampness at the top. Dean groans and pulls Sam back with a gentle hand in his hair when Sam’s little tongue comes out to lick at the moisture. 

“Won’t be much to see if you keep doing that, Sammy,” he says breathlessly. “Go ahead, if you want to.” He catches Sam’s hands and guides them to his belt, eyes wide and dark with want. 

Sam bites his lip in concentration as he fumbles with Dean’s belt. Dean lets him, lets Sam tug his belt loose. Undo the buttons and fly on his jeans, push the fabric open with eager little hands as Dean strokes his hair and tries not to come before Sam even gets him out. He can’t hold back another little groan as Sam leans forward to nuzzle Dean’s tummy as he looks up at Dean through his lashes. 

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean swears under his breath, and Sam gasps, shocked.

“Dean! That’s a bad word!”

“No, it’s not, Sammy. Not this time. It’s okay when we’re doing this.” He puts a finger over Sammy’s lips, tapping them playfully when Sammy grins at him and licks his finger. “But you can’t say it around Dad,” Dean warns. “We gotta be careful.”

“I’ll be careful, De,” Sam promises solemnly, holding up his pinky. Dean hooks his finger around Sam’s, making it an official pinky swear. 

“I know you will, Sammy.” Dean leans down to kiss Sam again, can’t get enough of the taste and feel of his mouth. “You ready?”

Sam nods eagerly, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Dean’s boxers and dragging them down carefully. Dean’s fingers in Sam’s hair tighten as the pressure on his aching cock is relieved slightly, and he pulls Sam forward gently. Sam puts his hands on Dean’s hips for balance and licks a long stripe up the underside as Dean moans. He likes the way Dean tastes, sweaty and...Sammy doesn’t know a good word for it other than _Dean_. He does it again, eyes half closed in pleasure, warmth curling in his tummy at how much Dean seems to like what he’s doing. 

“Fuck, Sammy, fuck fuck fuck,” Dean pants, hips bucking forward. He untangles one hand from Sam’s hair long enough to grip the base of his cock, holding it steady as Sam licks his lips and carefully closes his mouth around the tip, sealing his lips around the head and sucking hard. There’s stuff coming out, salty and and a little bitter but good, and Sam rubs his tongue over the slit where it’s coming from, wanting more. 

“Oh God, Sammy,” Dean moans, trying not to come instantly. Sam’s mouth is perfect, hot and wet and most of all _Sam_. Dean pushes in carefully, desperate for more but unwilling to move too fast, to hurt Sam. Sam chokes a little, surprised, but he doesn't pull back. He just opens his mouth and takes Dean in, looking up at him with eyes gone huge and wet, tears starting from the corners as he tries to fit more of Dean inside his mouth.

“Touch yourself, Sammy,” Dean orders, voice wrecked. “Let me see, wanna see you--” Sam moans around him as he tries to obey, even his graceless, clumsy strokes sending pleasure rushing through him. The vibrations rock through Dean and his hips jerk, cock bumping the back of Sam’s throat. Tears leak from Sam’s eyes as he snuffles through his nose as best he can, swallowing spit and precome and trying not to gag around Dean’s length. He’s never looked more beautiful to Dean than he does now, on his knees, red faced and teary, and clinging to Dean’s hip as he does his best to take him as deep as he can. 

“Sammy,” Dean chokes, overwhelmed, “Sammy, God--” and then he’s coming, emptying himself into Sam’s mouth as Sam swallows what he can, the rest dripping out over his chin. Dean pulls out of Sam’s mouth before he finishes on instinct, hearing Sam’s indistinct protest through a pleasure thick haze, and lets the last drops hit Sam’s face. Sam shudders, face tilted back, mouth open as he pulls in deep, gasping breaths. Streaks of white mingle with his tears, running in crazy lines over his baby soft cheeks and Dean falls to his knees in front of him, dazed, to kiss and lick Sam’s mouth and cheeks, chasing the taste of _them_. 

“I can taste me in you, Sammy,” he whispers, “both of us together, just like it should be.” He kisses Sam again, deep, and Sam moans, begging wordlessly. “Shh little brother, I got you,” Dean says, coming back to himself enough to realize what Sam needs. “Shh.”

Dean pushes Sam gently down onto the bed and kicks the rest of his clothes all the way off. 

“Dean--” Sam begs. “De please--”

“I got you,” Dean repeats, and swallows Sam down as best he can. It’s easier for him--Sam is still small, even though he’s painfully hard, and so ready that he comes immediately, filling Dean’s mouth with salty sweet bitterness. There isn’t much, not yet, and Dean drinks it all in, doing his best to work Sam through the aftershocks, sucking and licking him clean as Sam writhes underneath him. There are more tears on Sam’s face when Dean finally lets him go and collapses on the bed beside him, both of them panting with exertion. Sam’s eyes are closed, his lips swollen and slack as he turns toward Dean by instinct. Dean pulls him close, brushing their lips together and Sam sighs happily. 

“That what you wanted, little brother?” Dean asks, teasing just a little. 

“Mhmm.” Sam hums contentedly. “I like when we do that, Dean. It feels so good.” He opens his eyes as a thought occurs to him. “How long is it til Dad comes back? Can we do it again?”

Dean’s eyes sparkle. “He’s not coming back for a week at least, Sammy. We can do it lots more...if you want. And other stuff, too, if you want.” He hesitates. “You know you don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want to, right? You don’t have to do this just to make me happy.”

Sam snuggles closer to his brother, wrapping his arms around him, face buried in Dean’s chest. “I want to,” he promises. “Don’t care what anyone else says, De, you’re the best big brother ever and I wanna stay with you forever.” A huge yawn cuts him off, and his eyes slip closed again. Dean kisses his temple gently and strokes his hair until his breathing evens out. 

“Me too, Sammy,” he promises, sleep creeping up on him as well. “Forever.”


End file.
